Pie
by fine-feathered
Summary: Castiel's got a very special surprise for Dean. Gratuitous PWP.


Castiel has a bad habit. He likes to cook stark naked, all except for the scant clothing of a white apron.

Dean stumbles down the stairs, eyes still bleary with sleep. The tang of cinnamon and the sweet scent of caramel fills the house; making Dean's mouth water as he reaches the bottom floor. Swiping a hand across his eyes Dean stills on the last wooden step, sight suddenly clearing as he takes in the two perfect globes of Castiel's ass. Castiel is in the kitchen, eyes narrowed with concentration as he deftly cuts the pale home made pastry into strips, ready to be laid on the top of the pie.

Glancing over his shoulder, blue eyes blaze over the pale milky line of his naked shoulder. Castiel smiles impishly, hips wiggling slightly as he notices Dean's prolonged staring at his as.

The red socks on Dean's feet muffle his steps as he makes his way over to Castiel, who turns back to his work; fingers dusted with a fine layer of flour. Dean's hands smooth down Castiel's exposed ass, blunt fingernails lightly scratching down the dusky crack.

A slight shiver betrays Castiel as he begins the intricate work of laying the strips of pastry onto the pie.

A growl vibrates down Dean's throat as he grabs Castiel by the hips, turning him around to face Dean. The apron slips to the side slightly, revealing one of Castiel's nipples where a mole dots the side. Castiel's tongue snakes over his lips, painting the soft pink flesh with a bright sheen. Dean ducks his head down; his own tongue painting over Castiel's saliva, tasting fresh apples and brown sugar on the angel.

Castiel hums appreciatively, mouth opening under Dean's insistent tongue. Their tongues explore each other's mouths, licking and tasting the familiar curves and arches of each other's mouths. Dean's the first to pull away, a thread of saliva still connecting their mouths as they pant.

Glancing down, Dean laughs slightly, seeing Castiel's white apron tented by his erection. Castiel shivers in the cold house, making him lean instinctively into Dean's warmth. Running his hands down Castiel's flanks, Dean reaches under the apron, fingers finding the curls of hair at the base of Castiel's cock. Firm, Dean wraps his fingers around Castiel's erection, palm hot and soft on the underside; the curve of his hand following the line of Castiel's engorged vein to the leaking head.

Castiel grips the stone cook top, knees shaking as Dean's hand works up momentum. His hand slips in the flour, making him stumble back against the kitchen top. Dean stills his hand, fingertips rubbing against the leaking slit at the head of Castiel's cock.

Closing his eyes Castiel leans back, the patience of an angel the only thing that made him pull away from the delicious heat of Dean's hands. Hoisting himself up, Castiel plants his ass on the flour covered stone top, the dust clinging to him like a second skin.

Shuddering slightly Dean unzips his jeans, the sound of metal teeth parting strangely loud amidst the panting of the angel and hunter.

Dean finally lifts the apron, exposing Castiel's naked body fully. "Fuck Cas, you were planning this?"

Castiel tilts his head to the side, mock confusion tugging a mischievous smile on his lips, "whatever are you talking about?"

Castiel's ass is already slick with lube, the tight ring of muscles is pink and flexing, already worked open. Dean hums appreciatively at the sight, fingers wetly circling Castiel's opening, "such a good little angel."

Huffing, Castiel spreads his legs, blood boiling and impatient, "I do try Dean, now please, if you would kindly fuck me."

Smirking, Dean takes himself into his hand, cock already hard and straining in his calloused grip. Positioning himself at Castiel's entrance Dean pushes forward slowly, breath bottled in his chest as the head of his cock enters Castiel's hot and welcoming heat. "Ah, fuck…fuck, Cas."

Castiel's head falls forward, curls of black hair clinging to the veneer of sweat on his forehead. The angel mouths at Dean's neck, tasting salt and Dean's own unique musk; gun oil and leather. Finally Dean bottoms out, hips pressed tight to Castiel's flour dusted ass. Dean's hands latch on to the hard jut of Castiel's hips as he begins the delicious process of pulling out, before with a quick hard thrust he bottoms out again; velveteen heat wrapping around his hard cock once more.

A wonton moan rips itself from Castiel as Dean's next thrust hits his prostate, making his legs that are wrapped around Dean, jerk, forcing Dean to thrust at an even deeper angle.

Soon the lewd sound of flesh smacking flesh fills the kitchen; the flour soon paints Dean's thighs. Dragging one of his hands away from Castiel's hips Dean strokes Castiel's straining cock to the rhythm of his rutting. The warm glow of the overhead lights makes Castiel's sweat shine with gold, ribs expanding and contracting with his hurried breath. "Dean, I'm so close."

"Good" Dean growls, his own balls tightening as he feels his end nearing. With a rough twist of Dean's hand to the head of Castiel's cock, the angel comes, long strings painting the top of his apron and belly. Dean's rhythm falls apart as Castiel clamps down, milking the hunter for everything he has. And that's it; Dean comes with a guttural cry, hot seed spilling into Castiel's channel.

As Dean softens he pulls out, sweaty skin gritty with clumping flour and semen. Castiel smiles at him, blue eyes glassy with the after glow of his orgasm. "Still up for pie?"


End file.
